Ctrl-x, Ctrl-v
by Misa Hayase
Summary: If you had a second chance staring you down, would you take it? Or would you find the strength to forgive yourself instead?


How is it possible, this conundrum, of seeing oneself when gazing at another? As if there were a piece of reflective glass between them that defied the constraints of time, she saw before her not a man but her past life; a time that had been buried along with his memory over and over and over again until nothing but one purpose mattered any longer: just to prevail.

Was it a tangible second chance staring her down that very moment, a dangerous invitation simply daring her to extend a hand and grasp it? Or, like a ghost, would it vanish patronizingly within the moment she attempted to softly lay her fingertips upon it, to ensure it was truly real? Without word or movement, she hesitated to do either.

Brows knitting down into a vague expression of consternation, her eyes followed suit with the slightest squint. With lips barely parted, those deep jade eyes shielded between rims of black lashes religiously held their stare as slow, deep breaths were drawn into her lungs and expelled in the same manner.

It was the moment she both longed for and rejected simultaneously; a mere figment of a shattered dream that had drifted through her thoughts one time or another. It was a notion she clung to in the most desperate of times, and the very same one she filed deeply away during any other. Except, now it appeared to no longer be a moment of despondent imagination. She'd seen his shadow countless times before as bottles of whiskey disappeared quickly as if someone were carelessly spilling them, but no such intoxicating substance was there... besides his presence.

Her stare burned through him, not with the fire of anger but a mixture of both disbelief and perplexity: a deer in headlights. Though it was he who stood fifteen years younger she looked upon, it was herself who she saw in return; a younger version but determined as ever still. Not naïve nor ignorant of the truth, but honestly unaware of the implications that would follow. She saw herself knowing what would happen: that she would lose him eventually, and herself after that. But not so soon. Not in that manner. Not entirely or rightly prepared for the weight of the days that would follow which would leave her emptier than a walking skeleton.

If this were the time to utter words of warning, what would be the appropriate ones?

"_Perhaps we should be thinking this through once more. Just one more time."_

"_Give it a little while longer."_

"_No, I'm not leaving you here alone."_

Her eyes softened in the slightest then. _"...I don't want to go on without you... so please... please..."_

As her thoughts stuttered, she then questioned of them, _"...Please what?"_ Take away the burden she swore to carry with her throughout the rest of her days? Change the plan, revise the goal, abandon the mission which was dire enough to sacrifice life itself? Throw it all away for selfishness or for nothing?

The expression upon her face hardened then with those thoughts. No, she was meant for something else... something different that no one else could possibly fathom. The essence within her raged like wild horses racing against an azure sky that could not be owned, tamed, nor domesticated. It was hers and hers alone to give up for the sake of everything good that still existed in the world. And that resolve wouldn't be shaken for her own desires that were buried long ago, no.

With new found strength and focus, she finally lifted her right hand in the solemn atmosphere. Following her motion, he lifted his left. And their fingertips touched, and their digits entwined, and his grip matched the robustness of her own. And it was perfect once more.

It was then that she knew the words to say, and that saying them would result in losing him all over again. But even if his image would fade slowly until she stood in solitude, it was the fate she accepted.

Though the words fell quietly from her lips, they were confident: "I have no regrets."

His free hand cupped the back of her head, digits splayed out within her hair, and he pulled her forward. Their lips clashed, that familiar flavor and scent that had long vanished returning in the instant and when he drew but millimeters away to speak, all that left his lips was one simple word. "Good."

However, he would remain with her for much longer than she expected this time.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! :D


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